


Cold

by attackofthemutantcheesecake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackofthemutantcheesecake/pseuds/attackofthemutantcheesecake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John forgets to dress warm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [this](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/19671) by thebritishteapot. 



> I don't have enough creativity for the moment to conceptualize a story on my own so for now I'm borrowing from fanart on tumblr because, seriously, that shit is pretty awesome.
> 
> I hope you like it.

John wondered how cold it could get before the London atmosphere gave up its losing battle against precipitation. It would have been convenient to look outside to see crystalline flakes indicating that the temperature necessitated the use of a heavier coat, gloves and a scarf. Instead he left 221B with none of those because he thought frostbite wasn’t a risk he was facing at the time. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

He walked faster. Increased circulation in his limbs would force some core heat back into extremities and help him keep all ten toes, but he didn’t want to go too far. The light was almost gone.

 

_The ache was a horrible dark thing. It oozed into each gesture, each breath. It solidified in his crevices until everything was heavy and hurting._

_Each footfall was weighted._

_Each sound was laborious._

_It enveloped each bone (creak), each blood vessel (pop), each thought (Sherlock) and leached away the warmth more thoroughly than winter fingertips skimming his skin_

_(because when he rubs his shoulders the friction sparks an ember but each inhale only drives icy splinters into soft pink flesh)_

 

His knees met the metal of the bench before he realized where his feet had taken him. Numb fingers traced the edges of long-dried curves painted in a bright yellow that hadn’t faded. It was one of his. The first of many. The symbol of his crusade against a tainted memory.

A memory that remained as such even as every battle was inevitably won and every smear wiped away by the confirmation of legitimacy he never doubted. Words were retracted as if they were tangible entities that could be recaptured once released. Apologies were made as if stringing them together could form a line long enough to reach into the past and undo what had to be done.

John sat down and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He closed his eyes and tried to scrape off the painful layers aggregating around his organs.

_old joints, new scars, spilled blood_

Nothing new.

_dehydration, lacerations, gunshot wounds_

Survivable.

_things left undone, words left unsaid, questions left unanswered_

He shivered and breathed through the lump in his throat.

_a sacrifice, a fall, a loss_

Sometimes he feared that each nerve ending would freeze until he lost the ability to feel. Sometimes he welcomed the possibility of becoming oblivious to sensation. Sometimes he wondered if he was only becoming desensitized, if the nothingness was a coping mechanism because he had reached every superlative his brain had the ability to comprehend.

Another shiver travelled through him, a deep full-bodied bid for a fire and a cup of tea. He was mustering up the energy to trudge back home when something dropped around his shoulders and was deftly wound around his neck. The drag of cashmere wool against his cotton jacket rasped close to his ear as tension briefly pulled the scarf taut. Then he caught sight of a flurry of windswept sable curls and a flash of mercurial eyes.

In the absolute stillness, a solitary snowflake drifted slowly toward the ground. And as the world turned white around them, John breathed the familiar smell, let it fill his lungs, and began to thaw.


End file.
